All Chapters of The Billionaire Alpha's Revenge: Chapter 141 - Chapter 150

The elevator shaft ended not in a floor, but in a breath of silence so cold it felt like a physical weight.When the blast doors of the "Void Elevator" hissed open, the air that rushed in didn't just chill the skin; it seemed to freeze the very concept of time. This was the "Cradle"—the absolute deepest point of Alcatraz, buried three thousand meters beneath the Pacific seabed."Holy..." Ben Carter’s teeth began to chatter instantly, the sound like dice rattling in a cup. He hugged his tactical vest, which was currently stuffed with three hard drives and a half-eaten protein bar. "Why is it... why is it so cold? Are we in a morgue?""Technically, yes." Olivia stepped out first. Her breath didn't form mist. It was as if her body temperature had instantly synchronized with the ambient zero. She walked across the floor, which was made of a translucent, obsidian-like material. Beneath the glass-like surface, faint blue energy pulsed rhythmically, like th

The descent of Valerius was not merely an arrival; it was a rewriting of the laws of physics within the Cradle.As the ramp of the Gungnir hissed open, a wave of unseen force washed over the obsidian floor. It wasn't wind—the air remained stagnant and freezing—but a sudden, brutal amplification of mass."Ugh..." Ben Carter was the first to fall. One second he was standing, trembling behind a pillar; the next, he was flattened against the ground as if a giant, invisible hand had slapped him down. His tactical vest, laden with hard drives, slammed into his chest with the weight of a slab of concrete. "I... I can't... breathe..."Marcus, the team’s bulwark, roared. The veins in his neck bulged like thick, blue cords. He tried to raise his kinetic shield, but the device sparked and whined, its internal gyroscopes screaming against the pressure. CRACK. The reinforced alloy of his knee guards splintered. The giant of a man

The sound of a soul being ripped from a body is not loud. It sounds like a gasp, a sharp intake of breath that never finds an exhale.In the center of the Cradle, that sound was multiplied by four.Jack Miller scrambled across the obsidian floor, his broken femur grating against the bone with every movement. He didn't feel the pain in his leg. He only felt the cold terror gripping his heart as he watched the scene before him unfold.The "Progenitor Heart"—that fist-sized, golden crystal hovering above the shattered stasis pods—was pulsing. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. With every beat, it sent out a visible ripple of distortion, warping the air like a heat haze.But it wasn't radiating heat. It was inhaling life."Mom! Dad!" Jack screamed, dragging himself over the glass shards.Elena Miller, the brilliant geneticist who had designed the very system Jack lived by, was currently writhing on the floor. Her skin, which had

The concept of "falling" is relative.When you trip on a sidewalk, falling takes less than a second. When you skydive, it lasts a few minutes.When a city-sized prison island falls from the stratosphere, it feels like an eternity of screaming metal and vertigo.The Valkyrie had escaped the hangar bay, but the escape was far from clean. The shockwave from the island’s impact with the ocean had swatted the prototype jet like a fly in a hurricane.Inside the cargo hold, gravity was a suggestion, not a law."Stabilize! Stabilize!" Finch’s voice from the cockpit was the only thing anchoring them to sanity. The old butler was wrestling the yoke with the strength of a man half his age, sweat beading on his forehead as he fought the crosswinds generated by the mega-tsunami below.Jack Miller lay on the floor, groaning. The "Curse of the Usurper" on his right arm was pulsing with a dull, rhythmic agony, like a second heartbe

The Lighthouse was not a home; it was a waiting room for the damned.Three days had passed since the crash landing on the grey beach. The storm outside hadn't ceased, battering the stone walls of the fortress with a relentless fury that matched the turmoil inside Jack’s mind.Jack stood on the balcony of the second floor, looking out at the churning black ocean. His right arm—the Cursed Arm—was wrapped in heavy bandages, but the black necrotic light still pulsed through the cloth, visible in the dark. It hurt. It always hurt now. A constant, low-level gnawing sensation, like termites eating his marrow."You should sleep," a voice came from the shadows.It was Olivia. She moved silently, her steps making no sound on the stone floor. She looked different. The cold, robotic detachment of "Subject 002" was cracking. There were dark circles under her eyes. Her skin was paler than usual."Can't," Jack said, not turning around. "Every ti